


they might promise you (that the river ain’t deep)

by sophiahelix



Series: Tumblr Prompts [13]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 13:51:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15931739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiahelix/pseuds/sophiahelix
Summary: His own bow was lying on the rock ten feet away, and Yuuri felt like an idiot for setting it down when he’d spotted the blaze orange bag on the ground, scrambling forward in his hasty excitement. There might have been anything in it — food, medical supplies,socks— and he hadn't waited for caution. They hadn’t been able to shoot as much game as he’d hoped, and fording that river had soaked everything they were wearing, and although they’d gotten the bullet out, the hole in Phichit’s leg was starting to go septic…But Yuuri should have known better. Of course a supply bag lying in the open was a trap, and now he was paying for it, staring up the wooden arrow and through the black carbon-fiber frame of the bow into the cold blue eyes of his idol, five-time winning tribute Victor Nikiforov.





	they might promise you (that the river ain’t deep)

**Author's Note:**

> From a Tumblr prompt combining the tropes “dystopia” and “it’s not you, it’s my enemies,” which immediately made me think of a Hunger Games AU

“Drop the bag,” Victor said, his voice wavering.

Yuuri clutched the backpack in his hand a little tighter, keeping his eyes fixed on Victor. More specifically, on the sharp-tipped point of the arrow aimed straight at him. Unlike Victor’s voice, it was perfectly still. 

His own bow was lying on the rock ten feet away, and Yuuri felt like an idiot for setting it down when he’d spotted the blaze orange bag on the ground, scrambling forward in his hasty excitement. There might have been anything in it — food, medical supplies, _socks_ — and he hadn't waited for caution. They hadn’t been able to shoot as much game as he’d hoped, and fording that river had soaked everything they were wearing, and although they’d gotten the bullet out, the hole in Phichit’s leg was starting to go septic…

But Yuuri should have known better. Of course a supply bag lying in the open was a trap, and now he was paying for it, staring up the wooden arrow and through the black carbon-fiber frame of the bow into the cold blue eyes of his idol, five-time winning tribute Victor Nikiforov.

The thing about Victor was that he _kept volunteering_. This year it was in place of a slight, blond boy who’d looked furious on the video screen at the Reaping. “I told you not to!” he’d yelled, his blue eyes blazing in a way that had made Yuuri wonder if they were related. But there was Victor Nikiforov up on stage once again, accepting the cheers of the crowd with a calm certainty. 

Every year, people talked about why he did it. Pride, perhaps, or arrogance, or the thrill of danger. _Maybe he’s a killer at heart_ , Yuuri had heard someone mutter once. But he’d watched Victor since he was a child, from the draw through the tournament to the victory ceremony, and he didn’t think any of that was true. He’d seen Victor kill when he had to, but mostly he’d seen Victor survive. Helping others when he could, and killing only when he had to, in defense and as quickly as possible. He’d never seen Victor kill for the pleasure of it, even three years ago when he’d gotten the better of that big girl from District 2, the one who’d caught his ankle in a bear trap the day before. Most importantly, he’d seen the way Victor looked at the younger boys whose places he’d taken, the protective tenderness in his eyes.

There was none of that now, Yuuri thought. Victor was frowning at him hard, hands gripping the bow and string. Yuuri didn’t even spare a glance for his own weapon, just slowly dropped the bag and raised his hands over his head.

They’d never spoken, during the training, even though they had both focused mainly on the archery station. He’d watched Victor shoot, casual but focused, hitting the targets with deadly, careless ease, and felt something sink even deeper inside him. There was no way he’d survive the first day, with someone like Victor around. There was no way he’d survive the first _morning_.

“You’re the other archer,” Victor said, his voice steadier now.

“Yes,” Yuuri said. He hated how small he sounded, but he didn’t think he could tough his way out of this, and it wasn’t how he felt anyway.

“Are you alone?”

Yuuri nodded, then shook his head. “My friends are back at the camp. About a twenty minutes’ walk.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no such thing as _friends_ here.”

Yuuri swallowed hard. He hadn’t wanted to think about that, ever since they made the pact in training. Even if he and his three friends survived the rest of the tributes, that wouldn’t be the end of it. “If we don’t stick together now, we won’t make it through alone.”

“That’s an alliance,” Victor said. The longer the conversation went on, the stronger his voice got, like he was becoming someone else. A veteran tribute with five victories under his belt. Yuuri didn’t like it.

“Why are you here?” Yuuri asked. With an arrow pointed at his chest, he didn’t have many options besides talking.

“Waiting for someone to be stupid enough to pick up that bag,” Victor said.

“No, not this clearing. Why are you at another Games? Why don’t you ever take your retirement?”

Victor smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “You think you’re the first tribute to ask me that? Maybe I like killing people.”

Yuuri shook his head. “I don’t think you do. I think you like saving people.”

Victor blinked at him, his grip loosening and the bowstring withdrawing slightly before he drew it tighter again. “Shut up.”

“I think you know that twenty-three people are going to die no matter what,” Yuuri went on. He was fearless now, bold, with the arrow about to pierce his chest at any moment. “I think you figure, you can only save the one. Someone you know, someone from your district. Someone whose place you can take. That’s pretty brave, but it’s stupid. Why not try to take down the whole system, instead of just saving one boy every year?”

“Shut up!” Victor snapped, and dropped the bow. He lunged at Yuuri, grabbing him by the shoulders and tackling him to the ground. Yuuri, surprised, grappled back as best as he could, rolling back and forth with Victor on the hard forest dirt until finally they stopped, with Victor on top and pinning him down.

They both breathed hard, straining against each other. He caught a glimpse of Victor’s fierce blue eyes again before Victor leaned down, his mouth near Yuuri’s ear.

“ _There are always cameras on us, you idiot_ ,” Victor hissed. “ _Just play along._ ”

He yanked on Yuuri’s shoulders once more, heaving them over. Yuuri’s mind was reeling, but he followed, pinning Victor with his weight on Victor’s chest and his hands on Victor’s wrists. He stared down, waiting for the next sign from Victor.

Yuuri wasn't holding Victor’s wrists very tightly. Victor thrashed once more, then leaned up to growl, “ _bargain with me_ ” under his breath, right in Yuuri’s face.

“Stay still,” Yuuri snapped, after a pause, and shifted his grip on Victor’s wrists. “I won't hurt you, if you let me take that supply bag.”

Victor laughed, bitterly. “There's nothing in it but rocks and leaves. What, do you think I would have put anything valuable in it?”

Yuuri made a face, pressing his lips together and hardening his expression. “What do you have with you? A compass? Food?” Victor looked blank, and he tried again. “Medical supplies?”

There was a pause, while Victor made an obvious show of thinking about it. Yuuri felt his heart pounding, suddenly aware of the hidden cameras that must be tuning in for this struggle. So far, he hadn't acted any differently just because they were being observed, even though Minako had urged him to, but now he could see that Victor knew exactly what he was doing, playing to the audience. He must have been doing it for five years, Yuuri thought.

“I have a tube of antibiotic cream in my pack,” Victor said, finally. “Didn't your sponsor send any?” he added, with a touch of icy mockery in his voice.

“It's Phichit who's hurt, not me,” Yuuri said. “And he doesn't have any sponsors.”

He winced as he said it, realizing he'd violated one of Minako’s first rules — never give any information away. He scowled and squeezed Victor’s wrists again, tighter. “I want more than that. Give me your canteen too.”

The rivers and creeks were an enemy in these Games; flooding and draining unpredictably, and alkaline enough to burn bare skin. It had “rained” fresher water twice so far, and back at camp they were living on what they could drink from the tarp Leo had stretched out between three trees. There wasn't much left.

Victor stared at him for a moment longer, and Yuuri thought he saw him nod just slightly, approving. “Fine,” he snapped. “Let me — ”

“I'll get it,” Yuuri said. “Stay where you are.”

He got up, edging backwards across the clearing, kicking away the bow when he came across it and keeping his eyes on Victor. He still wasn't sure if this was a trap, but Victor stayed where he was, prone on the ground. Yuuri glanced over his shoulder several times, orienting himself to the pack lying beneath a tree. This one was camouflaged with mud and dirt, smeared over the bright orange nylon. Smart, Yuuri thought.

Victor hadn't moved. Yuuri knelt down beside the pack, still staring at him, and fumbled until he felt the cool plastic of Victor’s water canteen. He pulled it out, and then he remembered the antibiotic cream.

He had to look away longer for that, but he found it, zipped into the front pouch next to a clasped hunting knife.

Yuuri paused, his fingertips resting on the teeth of the open zipper. If he really wanted to kill Victor, he'd have a better chance with the bow than with this. He'd never trained with a knife, and Victor was just as likely to wrest the weapon away and turn it back on Yuuri, if he tried anything like that.

He didn't really want to kill Victor.

He didn't want to be stabbed in the back with a knife either, despite Victor’s seemingly conspiratorial friendliness. Yuuri reached into the pouch, taking the cream and the knife together, and jammed them both into his pocket before straightening up, canteen still in hand.

“I'm going to cross the clearing now,” he announced, “Stay where you are until I get my bow.”

“And then what,” Victor called back. He still hadn't moved from where he was lying on the ground, handsome even in sweaty black tactical gear, his hair in his eyes. It actually made him _more_ handsome. His merchandise had always sold well.

“Then I'm going back to my camp, and you're not going to follow me.”

“Suppose I do?”

Yuuri paused. “Sing three verses of the Capital ode so I know where you are.”

Victor laughed. “I only know the first verse.”

“Sing it three times.”

There was a brief silence, and then Victor began to sing.

Yuuri edged back across the clearing, his hand over the bulge in his pocket. A knife would come in handy out here, even if he wasn't using it against anyone. He still wasn't sure he could kill a person in cold blood; the sight of the boy from District 6 drowning when he slipped on the river rocks was still with him, even if the boy had been shooting after them with a hunting rifle.

He reached the rock where he'd laid down his bow, and took it gratefully in hand again. The quiver of unused arrows was still strapped to his back, and he hoped none had snapped in his tussle with Victor just now. If he'd been thinking straight, he would have made Victor give up his own arrows too, but Yuuri still wasn't quite sure what was happening, except that he should be dead by Victor’s hand by now.

He wasn't, though. Victor was still lying in the clearing, singing in tune if not well. Yuuri adjusted the quiver on his back and touched the things in his pocket once more.

“I'm leaving now. Keep singing.”

Victor stopped. “You're going back to your _friends_?” He said the last word in a sneer.

“Yes.”

Victor waved a hand in the air, grandiose even on the dusty ground. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Yuuri snorted, but a chill went through him at Victor’s words. He'd been gone for several hours by the sun, and he didn't know what he'd find back at the camp. One thing he’d learned from the many Games he'd been forced to watch was how fast things could change. He squeezed the canteen in his hand. “Start singing again.”

“I hope you enjoy the concert,” Victor said. “You, and whoever else is listening.”

Another chill ran through Yuuri, even colder this time. He didn't know if Victor meant other tributes or the invisible audience always around them, but it reminded him that he was on his own in the hills and it was getting late. “Goodbye, Victor.”

“Oh, Yuuri?” Victor said, surprising him. Yuuri hadn’t thought that Victor knew his name; he'd never mixed with anyone during the training. _He doesn't want to get to know the people he's planning to kill_ , Yuuri had thought at the time.

“Yes?” he asked, still discomfited.

“It's beautiful, here in the woods, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Yuuri said again, warily.

“The trees, and the skies,” Victor sighed. “And the birds. Don't you love listening to them sing?”

“What?”

“I'm just saying,” Victor said, slowly and clearly. “If you get the chance, you should listen closely to the birdsong.”

Yuuri caught his breath and held it. There was something else here, hidden and hard to grasp, but Victor wanted him to know. For the first time since his name was plucked from the bowl of folded paper slips, Yuuri felt the feathered and fragile stirring of hope.

“If I hear any birdsong,” Yuuri said, and paused. “I'll stop and listen.”

“Good,” Victor said, and then he began singing the Capital ode again, louder and lustier than before. Yuuri turned his back on him and the clearing, and turned to hike back towards the setting sun.

**Author's Note:**

> http://sophia-helix.tumblr.com


End file.
